


Dopamine

by Misaya



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Dealing, Eventual Levi/Erwin Smith, Humor, M/M, Pining Erwin, Recreational Drug Use, Sassy Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5136965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misaya/pseuds/Misaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fucking your drug dealer is a bad idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dopamine

**Author's Note:**

> Ongoing edited RP thread.
> 
> erwin by [Birbwin](http://www.birbwin.tumblr.com)  
> levi by [Misaya](http://www.misayawriting.tumblr.com)

He makes his way down to the coffee shop in the local shopping centre, astounded still by his contact’s location choice. He didn’t expect to meet in a grungy alley way, not exactly, but a somewhere a  _little_  more sinister seemed appropriate for the nature of this…transaction. Here, his all-black attire and ominous beanie seems out of place. 

He reads over his texts with the dealer - Levi - once more. In a bout of paranoia he had saved his number under the contact name ‘Sofia ;)’, lest anyone scroll through his phone and become suspicious. He’d rather be accused of trashy one-night stands than be reported for participating in illicit activities. What he is about to do is a crime, a dangerous deed, but it was too late to back out now. 

He finds the man he’s looking for on a table in the corner of the cafe:  _wearin a red jumper,_  the text had said. Erwin had texted back asking for more details, saying the description was far too vague, and had been ignored. It was something he would certainly bring up. He makes his way over to him, blood raging and adrenaline sparking at his feet. Today Erwin Smith reinvents himself.

Today he buys his first drug.

* * *

 

The latte in front of him steams up against his glasses, a foam heart of steamed milk dissipating against his lips as he takes an impatient sip, eyes flicking around the coffee shop for his client. A man’s approaching the table, clad all in black like he’s still going through his emo phase. He’s missing the eyeliner and the piercings, though, and Levi thinks back fondly to the follies of youth, absentmindedly rubbing the calligraphy of tattoos that carve poetry around his fingers.

Erwin sits down across from him heavily, jostling the iron table, and Levi catches a trace of Dior cologne. Absentmindedly, he fumbles in his pocket for the little manila envelope, its corners sharp and creased against his palm. He looks scared, eyes darting suspiciously around the store as though the little old lady buying an almond croissant is ready to deport him to the West Indies at the slightest hint of illicit activity. Levi wants to laugh, but he’s far too busy calculating how much money he can charge before Erwin starts to get suspicious. 

Five neat little circles of ecstasy press back reassuringly through the thick orange paper. Levi vaguely wonders if Erwin’s hot underneath all the black, in both senses of the word. He decides that Erwin must be; he reeks of pretty frat boy, alcohol tolerance and chiseled abs and a closet stacked with jeans from Abercrombie and Fitch.

“Er. Um.” Erwin clears his throat. “I…I’m not sure how to go about this.”

“You in a hurry?” Levi’s eyes flash towards him, and Erwin cowers back. Fear. Levi relishes the taste of control, sweet against his tongue, and jacks the price up another five dollars. “Sit down. Have a coffee. Take off that hat, you look ridiculous.”

* * *

 

He almost breaks his neck whipping his beanie off as he curses himself -  _of course you look stupid, this isn’t hollywood._  “Ah, no, i’m not in any rush,” he attempts to say smoothly, but the man - boy - can probably feel the heat emanating off his burning cheeks, can probably warm his hands on it.

A waiter approaches him from the side and he almost yelps in surprise, already suffering the inevitable paranoia associated with committing such a terrible crime. She asks him what he wants with a raised brow and he picks up the menu with trembling hands.  _It’s not too late to back out_  he finds himself thinking once more,  _I can’t live the rest of my life like this._

The man across from him watches him closely, obviously amused, his own latte all but neglected as his lips twitch upwards. Erwin thought he was doing a pretty good job of hiding his inner conflicts, but it seems they’re very overtly battling out on a wide psychological arena for all to see.

“A Chai Latte, please, thank you,” he stutters out to the waiter, and he sighs in relief as she pads away. He doesn’t even know what he has just ordered - he blurted out the first thing he saw on the menu, feeling rushed under Levi’s apathetic gaze. He’s intimidating, there’s no doubt about it, but perhaps he’ll feel more comfortable once he knows more about him.

“So,” he begins, “can you tell me a little more about yourself?”

* * *

 

Levi grins, amused. “What’s there to tell?” he asks, spreading his hands out on the table as if to say that he has no secrets. A blatant lie, he has plenty, but he doesn’t feel particularly obligated to anything just yet. “You want a resume? Letters of recommendation?” 

Erwin all but goggles at him, and Levi chokes back a laugh. He has a professional air of aloofness and general disregard to maintain, after all. It’s in everyone’s best interests, here. 

The waiter comes back, setting his chai latte down in front of him. Levi waits until Erwin takes a sip, burning his tongue by the looks of it, before leaning in conspiratorially. “I killed a man with this thumb once,” he whispers, waggling his right hand at him, and Erwin nearly spits out his latte all over the table at the sight of the aforementioned thumb.

Levi leans back, laughing, his eyes crinkling into curved commas. “Jesus,” he says, all but cackling, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “You really fell for that?” 

He decides not to up the price anymore, because Erwin already looks like the fear of God has been put into him, and Levi thinks he’d be fun to keep on as a return customer. It wouldn’t do to go alienating him from the start.

* * *

 

“You could be telling the truth, for all I know,” Erwin says in his defence. He may be a drug-buying novice, but that doesn’t mean he will allow himself to be ridiculed. Whilst he’s still somewhat intimidated at this point, the irritation at being laughed at renders him brave; he may be naive, but Erwin Smith is no fool.

“Actually,” he continues, “some sort of documentation proving your reliability  _would_  be appreciated. How do I know you’re trustworthy? What’s your criminal record like? Have you ever been arrested? Are you under watch? Is your product obtained ethically?” He spits the questions out, rapid-fire.

Levi looks offended at this, like he never expected to be questioned. Good. He needs to turn the tables around. “Listen you ungrateful fuck, this isn’t a job interview,” Levi hisses in a low voice over his latte.

“If you’re not a professional, i’m not sure i want anything to do with you.” For all his bravado, his sweaty hands are shaking under the table - but Levi certainly doesn’t need to know that. “Besides, I doubt you’re the only dealer around here. What’s to say you’re so special, hm?”

* * *

 

Levi narrows his eyes in irritation. He’s certainly never had a customer quite like Erwin, no one so demanding or pushy. And ethical? He wants to laugh, long and loud until his lungs hurt, if he had been 100% assured of the sale. He no longer is, and the mirth dies down in his throat as he studies Erwin across the table.

“Well,” he says, weighing his words, honing them razor sharp. “I’m the only dealer around these parts who isn’t out to try to gyp you by cutting it with baby powder or white pepper, for one.” Erwin looks dazed, confused, and Levi realizes he has no idea what this means. “And for another, I’m the only one who’ll sell you straight from the source. No middleman fee.”

Erwin doesn’t look convinced. Levi pulls out the stoppers. 

“You need connections, friends of friends of friends, obscure relatives in the Caymans, whatnot, for the others to even consider you. And you’re just a rich, lonely frat boy, probably in business, trying to look cool for his friends. Stop me if I’m wrong.” 

Erwin gawps at him across the table. Levi leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his latte, satisfied that the tides have swung back in his favor. He reaches into his pocket, and with two fingers - calligraphed L and E tattooed across the knuckles - pushes the tiny orange manila packet across the wrought iron table to Erwin. 

“I think you’ll find the product more than speaks for itself,” he finishes, licking away a trace of steamed milk foam from the corner of his mouth. Erwin’s eyes look like they’re about to bug out of his head. “That’ll be sixty, please.”

* * *

The slide of the manilla packet across the table has Erwin hardening his gaze. He’s a rich frat boy, yes, but this rich frat boy has had the luxury of travel, to lands and continents where all sorts of people with all sorts of looks had tried to cheat the money out of his laughably white palms.

And he knows when he’s being cheated.

He could get it for half that price, at the very least. He reeks of a novice and whilst he cant help that, he can always put his skills to use.

He doesn’t reach for the packet.“I’ll give you thirty for it, since it’s technically a trial sample. Nothing more, nothing less. If i’m satisfied with the product, ill return.”

Levi grits his teeth, visibly frustrated, and that’s how Erwin knows he’s won. If the product is as good as he says, he wouldn’t be so worried. Or perhaps Levi doesn’t know how to secure business in the long term? He looks him over again - this scowling ball of a young adult - and decides that it's probably the latter.

Then Levi laughs, something deep and sarcastic. "You think you know your shit, huh Heisenberg? Sixty or nothing."

He revels in the surprise on Levi's face when he stands up abruptly, clutching his ominous beanie and throwing some money for his coffee on the table - a lot more than necessary (an intimidation tactic, no doubt about it).

"Very well then. Thank you for your time, Levi. I'm sorry we couldn't come to an agreement."

Levi gapes at him but he doesn't wait to witness the spitting and hissing that will surely follow. He walks away, leaving the cafe without another word, smiling to himself as he walks to his car.

He knows Levi will message him by the end of the week, and he will have his thirty dollars ready.


End file.
